What if life wasn't as we know it
by squarey
Summary: 3 different lives for Bobby. Let me know what you think. A somewhat strung out narco detective; a professor; a FBI agent. I try to share images across the strands. Thx for sharing your thoughts with your reviews.
1. Crash

**Author's Note:** So, Nancy T wrote a story that kind of made me think "what if". (She put Eames in a different life). I of course would like to play with everyone, well mainly Bobby. Oh, and my very many apologies to ethelbertina - I stole her title and and didn't even realize it :(... I am really horrified. (I altered my title a bit). Ethelbertina's fiction also puts our lovely LOCI case of characters into different roles.

The L&O characters are borrowed. The OC Lucy Jones is from some of my prior writing. I think one of these stories deserves a shout out to the people behind Criminal Minds.

**The premise**: I am attracted to the idea that the same souls serve the same basic purpose in each other's lives, no matter the course of the actual life. So, I'm playing around with their jobs and how the circumstances of their life may have changed some things about them - but I will try to maintain some basic attractions and interactions.

Each chapter is a glimpse into a different possible existence for Bobby.

_**Crash**_  
_**Academic**_  
_**Habit**_

I hope you enjoy reading them.

* * *

**Crash**

Bobby Goren sat in his police issue vehicle, drinking a gigantic big gulp of soda. He was bored. Everyone seemed to think police work was a lot of running around and shooting. In reality, police work was a lot of sitting around and waiting. He was a narcotics detective, and today was a lot of sitting around drinking large caffeinated beverages.

"Goren, anything?" His partner slid onto the seat beside him. He liked Cyrus Lupo well enough, he was funny, smart, turned a blind eye when a blind eye was needed.

"Nothing." Bobby replied, setting the now empty soda aside. They had been sitting on some guy's place for the past 4 hours.

"Wait," Lupo said, adjusting the mirror in the car. "Something." Lupo said, and they could see their guy walking up the block with what looked to be a bag of groceries. They waited until the guy passed by their vehicle, then they quietly got out and fell into step behind him. They guy made them in like 2 seconds, and then in the next 4 minutes there was some running, no shooting, and they had the guy face first on the sidewalk cuffing him and reading him his rights. So, 4 hours of waiting ended up in a 4 minute dash.

"Got any plans tonight?" Lupo asked, after they had gotten the information they needed from the guy and processed him through booking.

"Nope." Bobby replied, but that wasn't entirely the truth.

"Anyway," Lupo replied. "tomorrow." Lupo took off. Bobby stopped by the locker room area the change into a clean shirt. He tucked in his dark t-shirt and refastened his jeans. He was thinner now than he had been a year ago, he thought that he might need new jeans. But he shrugged it off and tightened his belt. He stopped in the rest room and deftly downed some prescription pain meds. He had been on them a while back for an injury and found that he had never come off them. He was never high on duty, but he did find himself looking forward to the end of shift.

He glanced at his watch as he rang the building security buzzer. It was just after midnight. "Hey, let me up." He said, when he heard the click of the intercom. A moment later he heard the buzz as the lock released.

"Hey." She answered the door, she was only wearing an old NYPD t-shirt.

"Hey Alex." Bobby said, with his lopsided smile. She was a petite, feisty brunette who was a detective in Vice. She didn't talk much, and he liked that about her. What she did say was usually brutally sarcastic, and he liked that as well. He reached out for her, grabbing her to him, pulling her head back with her hair, kissing her deeply, hungrily. She yielded to him instantly, familiar with the routine, familiar with him.

"We don't have much time, Joe should be home about 2:00am." She whispered, referring to her husband.

"I don't need much time." Bobby kicked the door closed behind him.

"Neither do I." Alex scratched her finger nails down his back, wrapping her legs up and around him as he crushed her backward against the wall in the hallway. They had sex right there in the hallway, with her pressed up against the wall, her legs wrapped around him. He ran his hand down the sweaty valley between her breasts, kissing the salty sweetness of her neck. "I think I'm going to need a new t-shirt." She said, as he set her onto her feet in the hall.

When she returned he was in the kitchen retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. "Were you asleep?" He asked, wondering if he had woken her up when he rang the buzzer.

"No." She drank some of his water, watching him leaning against her kitchen counter. "You look thin." She remarked. He took the water bottle back from her and finished it. He had met her a few months ago, on a joint operation. The attraction was immediate. It was as if they had known each other forever. The case they were working went like a breeze, they had a connection, a way of communicating where they did not need words. He thought that she would make an excellent partner. But she was in Vice, with no interest in leaving. So, after the case was closed, they formed a partnership of another nature. He wondered sometimes if this was the first time she had cheated on her husband. But other times he realized that he didn't really care.

"I should go." He said.

"Yeah, you should." She smiled, kissing him on his ear, running her tongue against his earlobe. "You have my number, right?" She teased him, letting him know it was OK to do this again, anytime.

"Yeah, I do." He grabbed her again, kissing her roughly on her collar bone. And then he left her place.

Bobby was in no mood to go home and go to bed, he was too wired. So he went to a favorite place and ordered a double scotch, neat.

"Thanks Mike." Bobby said, downing the amber liquid in a single swallow. Mike Logan owned the place and typically tended the bar. At one time he had been a detective at the 2-7, but he'd lost his temper and punched some VIP, which got him bounced out of Manhattan. Logan had tried to make it on the Island, but ended up leaving the force and opening a most excellent bar, mostly frequented by cops. Bobby looked around, a bit surprised to see Joe Dutton having a beer with his partner. Bobby thought that he could have stayed with Alex a bit longer, seeing as her husband was here at Mike's bar. Bobby signaled for another. Mike refilled his glass. Bobby downed that in a single swallow as well. "You got anything for a headache?" Bobby asked.

"I think I just gave it to you." Mike replied, referencing the scotch, making his way down the bar toward another customer. Bobby reached in his pocket, thinking abut the pounding beginning in his head, and pulled out some Tylenol. He thought differently before taking it, and decided on the prescription med instead. He stayed for one more drink and settled his tab. When he stood, he stood slowly, letting the room catch up with his rapidly slowing senses.

He thought maybe his brain was slowing down enough that he could grab some sleep. He was just headed out of the bar when Joe Dutton and his partner came out behind him.

"Goren." Dutton said. "Has any one ever told you that you smell like my wife?" Dutton hit Bobby in the face so hard, with such surprise, Bobby slammed backward into the brick building behind him. He was high and drunk and completely lost his balance, so his head bashed into the wall and he could feel the blood running down onto his shirt.

"Holy shit Joe, what the hell." Dutton's partner exclaimed, completely taken by surprise. People were pouring out of the bar, someone had called for an ambulance.

When Bobby came to, he was on his back on a stretcher, wheeling down the hall. The warm blood from the wound on his head had turned cold, he was cold. From the lights on the ceiling he knew he was in the ER. He was trying to stay awake, stay alert. Someone was asking him to stay conscious.

"Detective." She was saying. "Robert Goren, Bobby, stay with me." She said, someone had told her his name. She was leaning over him, looking into his eyes. He opened his eyes to look at her; he focused on her molasses colored curls, on her darkly lashed eyes. She was looking at him, into his eyes, he felt like she was looking into his soul. "Bobby, stay with me." She said, her voice soft, imploring. He looked at her ID, Lucy Jones, Dr. Lucy Jones, an ER doctor. She leaned forward to look at his head wound, to again look at his eyes, she was balancing herself by lightly touching his chest. He realized it felt like she had one of her hands on his heart. "Stay with me." She said, one last time, just before he blacked out.

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**Author's Note**: Remember, the next chapter is a totally different story... So, re-open your brain :) 


	2. Academic

So remember, this is a different story

* * *

**Academic**

"Professor Goren?" Detective Alexandra Eames approached the tall man at the front of the classroom. One of his colleagues had been raped and murdered the night before. They had been chasing down leads, and apparently Professor Goren was one of the last people to have been seen with her.

"I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Stabler." Alex offered, introducing herself and her partner. Elliot was looking around the classroom, at the table at the front, the papers on the table, the notes on the whiteboard.

"Where were you last night between the hours of 10:00pm and 1:00am?" Stabler asked, not leaving Eames room for further niceties.

"Excuse me?" Bobby was beginning to erase the white board.

"Last night, 10:00pm to 1:00am?" Stabler reiterated, watching the professor finish wiping down the white board, beginning to pile up his papers.

"Why do you ask?" Bobby replied, stuffing his papers into a leather zippered portfolio.

"Where were you?" Stabler was losing patience. "Just answer the question, it's a simple question." Stabler ground out.

"Two detectives come to my place of work to ask me where I was the night before." Bobby observed, his tone neutral, he was studying Stabler. "That does not sound like a simple question."

The three stood staring at each other for a moment. Bobby turned his attention to Detective Eames. She was attractive, with honey eyes and hair, lithe muscular lines in her body. She was studying Bobby the same as he was studying her.

"Last night." She smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

"Why do you ask?" Bobby replied, directing his attention back to Stabler.

"We're investigating the murder of Lucy Jones." Eames supplied. She watched as it looked as if someone had just ripped the lungs out of Professor Robert Goren, he sat back hard onto the table. Eames thought that he looked like he was going to get sick.

"What?" Bobby said, he was pale, praying he hadn't heard them correctly.

"Witnesses have it that you were maybe the last one to have seen her, after her lecture last night." Stabler supplied.

"What was the nature of your relationship?" Eames asked.

"Friends. We are, um, were, Jesus…. we were friends." Bobby supplied, running the heel of his hand hard against his forehead. "Have you contacted her husband – Emil Skoda?"

"Where were you last night between 10:00pm and 1:00am." Stabler came back to the original question.

"Um, I taught my class last night, Lucy, she teaches a class that ends at the same time." Bobby started, his eyes closed. "So we walked out to our cars together." Bobby offered. "That was I guess, maybe 9:30. I went by the Black Rooster for a beer." He offered.

"Anyone see you there?" Eames asked, not liking Robert Goren for the rape and murder of his colleague. In fact, she found herself quite distracted by him. Something about the intelligence in his eyes, in the way he had looked at her, sizing her up, before they had revealed the reason they were there.

"Yeah, yeah, Mike Logan – he owns the place. I had a bowl of chili, a beer, talked with Mike for a while." Bobby offered. "I probably left just before midnight."

"We'll check it out." Stabler offered, and he turned to go, but Eames, she remained standing, looking at Bobby.

"Have you called Skoda, have you called her husband?" Bobby asked again, causing Stabler to take pause.

"Yeah." Stabler turned. "What was the nature of your relationship with Dr. Jones?" Stabler asked, thinking that if there was some kind of affair there, then they might be looking at the case a bit differently.

"Friends, we were friends." Bobby mumbled, his head in his hands. Stabler looked skeptical, but Eames believed Bobby. It was irrational, she knew, she had only laid eyes on him a few minutes ago, and she not only believed him, she believed _in_ him. She was on the job, and this guy was just about broken in two over the death of a friend, and she was attracted to him.

"Here's my card. We'll follow-up with you." Alex offered, thinking that they might need to re-interview him, thinking that she might like to run into him again. She rationalized that sometimes people met under stranger circumstances.

He took the card, turning it over in his large hands, running his fingers across the type face. He watched them leave the lecture hall.

"What the hell was that?" Stabler asked his partner. "You like the professor?" Stabler teased his partner.

"I don't like him for do-er in this case." Alex allowed, and Stabler thankfully let her peculiar behavior go.

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**Author's Note**: Again remember, the next chapter is a totally different story... So, re-open your brain :) 


	3. Habit

So remember, this is a different story (this one is a bit of a shout out to _Criminal Minds_)

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**Habit**

William James wrote, _habit is thus the enormous fly-wheel of society, its most precious conservative agent_. Agent Bobby Goren leaned his head back on the head rest of his seat on the Acela Amtrak train that ran between D.C. and New York, thinking about the quote by William James. If habit was what kept society spinning, than habit was the thing that was going to help him stop this particular unsub from taking another victim. Bobby had been tracking this particular unsub for the past 6 months across various states. And, if this was the same person, he had just broken a habit in New York, and usually this was exactly the break the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI needed to catch a killer.

Bobby wasn't looking forward to his time in New York, he had left the city several decades ago, and left behind not many happy memories. The ties that had kept him in New York for his childhood through college were precisely the ties that now kept him away. He had opted to take the train solo, arranging to meet the rest of the BAU team working this case in Manhattan. Apparently the 2-7 in New York had caught the case, so Bobby was brushing up by reviewing the file of the two lead detectives, Logan and Benson, investigating the murder of latest victim. He was to report to the commanding officer, Lieutenant Alexandra Eames, as soon as he arrived.

Bobby was directed to a small conference room and was informed that the other members of the BAU had arrived. They were never welcomed by the locals, and he was used to the looks and the attitude, but he knew that some of the members of his team were not as thick skinned as he was.

He rounded the corner and through the glass windows of the conference room, he could see his right hand, Dr. Lucy Jones conversing with Detective Logan. Lucy was smiling and nodding, her body language open and attentive. She was a pro and talking with people, at getting them to admit to the damndest things. She was also keenly intelligent, highly observant, and possessed a phenomenal memory for detail. She could take a part an individual and dissect their psyche better than just about any one he had ever worked with, perhaps even better then himself. He stood, watching her for a moment, feeling a strange vibe that her flirting was not simply part of her job, that she was genuinely laughing at whatever the detective was saying.

"Agent Goren." A female voice interrupted his thoughts. "Lieutenant Eames." A petite brunette extended her hand and shook his firmly. "This way." She gestured toward the conference room without mincing words.

"Detective, where is your partner?" Eames asked Logan.

"Right here Lieu." A tall brunette walked into the conference room.

"So, what do we have?" Bobby asked Lucy, who immediately left her conversation with the charming Detective Logan and joined Bobby at the large white board covered in the case that the 2-7 was building.

"This is our guy." Bobby mumbled to himself.

"I'm sorry agent, but to be clear, this is _our_ guy." Lieutenant Eames had quietly walked up beside Bobby. "Until I am informed otherwise, you are here to assist us, not the other way around." She snarked. Bobby flicked a glance in Eames direction, her expression was polite and professional, but she was definitely pinning him down with the pointed expression in her honey colored eyes. Bobby allowed a slight nod, acknowledging that he had heard the Lieutenant, and recognized that the state of New York had jurisdiction, for now. "We'll leave you alone, for a moment, to catch up with your, um, team." Eames said, looking at Lucy.

"What did you learn from Detective Logan?" Bobby asked as soon as the Lieutenant and Detectives had left the room. As he asked the question, his eyes followed the Lieutenant down the hallway, there was something familiar about her, something that drew him in. He couldn't place it, and was distracted by it.

"Not much." Lucy replied, watching Bobby watch the lieutenant.

"You never learn _not much_." Bobby returned his gaze to Lucy.

"What did you learn from the Lieutenant?" Lucy asked.

"I haven't spoken with her yet." Bobby admitted.

"Really." Lucy observed, she had sensed something between them, a familiarity between them.

"I'll let you know." Bobby replied, looking at Lucy, thinking about the way she had been laughing with the Detective.

Bobby had worked with Lucy for several years now. Even though he led the team, in the FBI they were of equal grade. She had seen him at his best, and she had seen him at his worst, and perhaps most significantly, she had seen him _through_ his worst. So they had a professional relationship and they also shared a deeply personal relationship. They were expert at keeping things separate and expert at keeping the personal hidden. But in that moment, there was nothing separate in the emotions they were feeling. Bobby was distracted by how Lucy had interacted with Detective Logan, and Lucy had just commented on the current between Bobby and Lieutenant Alex Eames. Bobby was not looking forward to his time in New York.

* * *

**Author's Note**: If you are here, you made it through 3 alternative universes. What to do... should I add to these? Are you curious about them... or are they just too weird? I of course like "Crash" best (I love that Dave Matthews Band song as well), but I'm thinking readers will like "Academic" or "Habit". Anyway, what a slow Sunday... (I'm tired of reading for work, so I treated myself to some writing). 


	4. Crash Scene 2

**Crash, Scene 2**

A few days later Bobby was leaning against the front of his car waiting for Lupo to come out of the coffee shop. He was surprised to see Eames pull up in her giant SUV. He walked over to her. He hadn't seen or talked to her since her husband had decked him out front of Logan's bar.

"How's your head?" She asked, her question almost conveyed concern, but her expression did not.

"Attached." Bobby replied.

"How many stitches?" She asked in such a way as to almost may small talk.

"Is that why you're here, to see how many stitches?" Bobby was now leaning against the front of her SUV. She glared at him for a moment.

"How'd you get home?" She asked. Bobby was having a hard time figuring out where all of the questions were coming from. Eames was not exactly chatty. He had called his brother Frank, who was none to happy to hear from Bobby in the middle of the night. Frank was at home asleep in his bed with his wife. Frank was a high school history teacher and he had to teach the next day, and did not appreciate having to drive out and retrieve Bobby from the emergency room.

"Which is it, how many stitches or how'd I get home?" Bobby asked, not answering either question. Eames glared at him for a moment. She swiftly stepped forward, her hand grabbing him by the crotch of his jeans, her eyes on level with his as he leaned backward against the car.

"Neither." She smiled, slightly, a bit wickedly, and kissed him soundly and suddenly. She literally had him by the balls when she said, "I think this will be the last you taste of me for a little while." Bobby wasn't necessarily surprised by her words, but he was a bit surprised by the grip she had on him.

"Fair enough." He replied, but he reached out and pulled her solidly against him, kissing her deeply. When he was done, he kind of threw her backward and she lost her grip on him. "I just wanted to make sure it was a fair taste." He said.

"You really are a son of a bitch." Eames said, but she was smiling, as if she appreciated that about him. He watched her walk around her car and climb back into her SUV. "I think Walker may be looking you up today." Eames threw the comment across the car, when she was a good distance away from Bobby. He immediately recognized the name as a cop who conducted internal investigations. One cop hits another one and there are bound to be some repercussions. Bobby knew that Eames had purposefully withheld that piece of information until there was a car between them. He reached forward to open the passenger side door. It was locked. So with his right hand out of sheer anger and frustration, he punched the window. The window held, but his hand hurt like a bitch. Eames did not stick around, she pulled away from the curb.

"Well, that was brilliant." Lupo walked up the sidewalk holding a large cup of coffee.

"Which part?" Bobby bit out, his hand throbbing.

"I only saw the part where you punched the window. Was there more?"

"No, no more." Bobby looked at his hand.

"I have a feeling you're headed back to the ER for the second time this week."

"It's fine." Bobby tried to flex his fingers and almost puked from the pain.

"Fine… …in that something might be broken kind of way." Lupo smiled. "Get in," Lupo referred to the car "you should get that X-rayed."

A few hours later, Lucy Jones walked into the ER exam area where Bobby was sitting, waiting to be discharged. Nothing broken. Bobby had a prescription for a very nice pain killer, and they had administered one as well, so he was feeling pretty mellow. He had seen a different ER doctor, so he was pleasantly surprised to see the pretty brunette from the other night.

"Detective Goren, you must like the ER this week." Lucy Jones smiled, looking at his chart. "How's your head?" She asked.

"Attached." He said, the same way he had said it to Eames earlier, but this time with a bit of a charming smile.

"I can see that." Lucy replied, looking at him. "Nothing broken in your hand I see." She looked at his hand and the notes on his chart. "Your right hand." She observed, thinking it was a bit odd, he was left handed.

"I was holding something in my left." He replied, thinking about how he was trying to open the door with his left hand only to find it was locked.

"Clearly it wasn't your temper." Lucy replied, thinking that here was a detective who had been in the ER twice in one week, once for a bar fight, now for punching a window.

"You look different." Bobby said, studying her. He really found her quite attractive. Something about the way she leveled him with her hazel eyes, something about the way she seemed to see right through him when she looked at him.

"Did they give you something for the pain?" Lucy asked, knowing full well they did, but interested in his answer.

"Yeah." He nodded, choosing that moment to move to stand. He nearly fell over on top of her. Lucy automatically took a step backward, watching him to see if he would catch his balance. And, he did. She took another step backward, wanting him to take another step and see if he remained steady. He looked at her like she was behaving strangely.

"I just want to see if you are steady on your feet." She looked up at him. He took a step toward her.

"I'm steady." He said, reaching out as if to touch her hair. He was distracted by a particular thick, glossy curl that was hanging across her face. She deftly deflected his touch.

"Yeah, you're steady." She looked at him.

"Steady as I'll ever be." He smiled, still studying her.

"I'll check on your discharge papers." She replied, turning to walk away.

"Lucy." He said her name, and she paused to look at him. He realized he didn't have anything to say, he had just wanted to say her name. It felt familiar to him, he liked her name, he was drawn to her. He thought about the other night how it felt to have her hand so lightly on his chest, over his heart.

"Detective?" She asked, looking at him.

"Nothing." He replied and watched her go. He stepped back and sat back on the table closing his eyes. He felt dizzy and slow all at the same time. He liked that feeling, that funny fuzzy feeling that slowed down his life, his thoughts. As he sat, it occurred to him that Joe Dutton was still working nights, and no matter what Alex Eames had said earlier, he figured that if he showed up at her place she would let him in, and he didn't need his right hand to do with her what he wanted to do with her. Zoom.

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**Author's Note**: So, for those of you following my writing through, you might recognize a scene from Ch. 9 of _The Doctor is In_. Our lives, so twisty, yet kind of the same. Please drop me a review if you would like more. (I wonder about this concept…) 


	5. Academic Scene 2

**Academic, Scene 2**

"Professor Goren." Alex Eames knocked lightly on the office door. The lights were low, but not off, and the door was ajar, leading her to believe he was inside.

Alex and her partner Elliot Stabler had spent the afternoon chasing down various leads, one of which was verifying Goren's alibi. Goren checked out, he had been at the Black Rooster having a beer (well two) and a bowl of chili.

"Come in." His voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat and repeated the words. "Come in."

Alex pushed the door open, letting the light spill in from the corridor. Bobby blinked slightly, letting his eyes adjust. He looked terrible, even worse than he had when they had left him and with the news of the death of his colleague, Lucy Jones.

"I'm sorry to disturb you professor, I just had a few more questions." Alex moved to stand in front of his desk, piled high with papers and journals and books, some read, some waiting to be read.

"You." He cleared his throat again, as if searching for his voice, searching for words. "You're with SVU." He said. She could see her card on his desk. Her card did not identify her unit, so she wondered how he had put that together. She did not reply, she simply looked at him. She was reminded of her partner's question about the nature of the relationship with the deceased. Professor Bobby Goren did not look like a man who had simply lost a colleague; he looked like a man who had lost something much more.

"Yes." She replied, tilting her head slightly to one side, she was watching his breathing, shallow and uneven. She thought she could see tears in his soft brown eyes.

"Special Victims Unit." He said the words slowly. "She was raped." He said, and he breathed in sharply, deeply. "Raped." He whispered the word, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "In the parking lot, where we were… …where we were together. She was raped and murdered in the parking lot." He repeated the words and took in a jagged breath. Alex thought about the word _together_. The investigation had not turned up anything that suggested that Bobby Goren and Lucy Jones were anything more than close friends, but still, his use of the word together sent up a small red flag in her brain.

"We're just trying to tighten the time line a bit." Alex offered. She watched him turn to look out the window. He really was an incredibly handsome man, strong lines in his cheekbones, expressive eyebrows, salt and pepper hair. His sideburns were longish, his face clean shaven.

"We walked out together, about 9:30. We stood talking until about 9:45." He continued to look out the window. "Lucy was funny, you know. I don't think many people recognized that, she could be quiet, introspective. But once she knew you… …she was funny." He turned to look at Alex. "I watched her get into her car as I got into mine. I remember, she dropped her brief case on the ground, and took a moment to get in and collect her things. Then, she pulled out of the parking lot in front of me." He sighed, scratching his long fingers through his hair. "She was in front of me." He repeated. Alex was jotting this down.

"You say she dropped her brief case onto the parking lot as she was getting in her car." Alex asked. She watched Bobby Goren look at her, for a very long moment he simply looked at her.

"You think she came back, came back for something she dropped." He said, putting it together, reading what Alex was thinking. Alex did not confirm his statement; she was watching his brain work, sift through details, the meaning of the details. Alex irrationally thought that he would probably make an excellent detective. He kept information in time lines, in categories, he remembered details.

"Can you think of anything else?" Alex watched him, he was fiddling with his hands, kind of flexing them and closing them.

"She has a student, a graduate student. Justin Kemp. He's not her Ph.D. student, but he has taken several of her classes. Lucy would sometimes mention that Kemp would show up in out of context places, like where she grocery shops or at a coffee shop where she was grabbing a cup of tea. He's not right, you know. Kind of gives you a funny vibe." Alex watched Bobby run his fingers across his forehead.

"Thank you." Alex said, looking at him. She had jotted down the name, Justin Kemp. Kemp had not turned up in their investigation, so she had a new lead to chase down. She needed to contact Stabler. She wondered why the victim's husband, Emil Skoda, had not been aware of Justin Kemp. He definitely had not come out in interview with Skoda.

"Detective Eames." Bobby said, standing, coming around the front of his desk to walk with her out into the hall. Alex looked at him, knowing that he was about to say something, but he didn't say anything. He was simply looking at her.

"Yes?" Alex asked, wondering what he was thinking.

"Have we met before?" He asked.

"No, I don't think so." She replied, finding the question strange. But she didn't find it strange because it wasn't true, she found it strange because she felt the same way. Bobby Goren felt familiar to her, like she knew him.

"Right." He said, looking at her, tilting his head in kind of a sideways manner. "If I think of anything else…" He started to say.

"You have my number." She finished his thought. Bobby watched her walk down the hall and it occurred to him it would be easy enough to look up Justin Kemp in the University directory - maybe he would pay Justin Kemp a visit.

* * *

**Author's Note**: A familiar name from _Four Funerals and a Wedding_. Again, our lives – so twisty, yet kind of the same. Please drop me a review if you would like more. 


	6. Habit Scene 2

**Habit, Scene 2**

The night Bobby Goren's biological mother passed away in the state of New York his biological father was executed by the state of Pennsylvania. Not many people knew of the connection between Bobby and Mark Ford Brady, it was not a matter of public record, it was not a matter of any record. Brady had pulled Bobby into his case in the final days before his execution. Up until that point, Bobby had no idea of the intersection between Brady and his family, he had no recollection of Mark Ford Brady's involvement with his mother. He had pieced together the truth by the tidbits that Brady dangled in front of him and by relying on his older brother Frank's stories of "Uncle Mark."

Bobby remembered the night his mother died, her near admission of the possibility that Brady was his biological father. Brady's DNA was on file, so it was easy enough for a man with Bobby's connections in the FBI to run an extremely discrete DNA analysis. He remembered when he received the information. He didn't remember the weeks after, but he remembered the moment. He felt as if his entire life's work had been twisted on its axis. He was a profiler for the FBI, he dedicated almost nearly every waking hour of each day to tracking killers. To find out that he was the offspring of one had nearly stopped his heart. It was so easy in his line of work to lose your soul, to lose sight of humanity. At times, he had a tenuous grasp at best in his faith, and to realize the connections in his life and map the majority of them to Brady resulted in him losing his grasp for a time. Lucy had been around to pull him back from the edge, to get him back on track, to remind him that he still had contributions he could make in life, to others.

So, as he sat in the conference room of the 2-7, in the wonderful state of New York, looking at the work of a serial killer that in his mind he connected to the deaths of 9 women, he could not help but think of Mark Ford Brady and his mother. His team had left the precinct for the evening, so he sat alone looking at the murder board. Lucy had rearranged some things and added some things, so evidence was presented in a more orderly fashion, with clear linkages established across victims, across ME reports, across places and details.

Bobby realized what he would really like to do was find his hotel room and find the mini bar and maybe find a shower to wash away the day. But, he couldn't seem to tear himself away from his thoughts, from this room, from the fact that he was sitting in New York.

"Agent." Lieutenant Eames opened the conference room door. "I thought you had left for the evening." She said, stepping inside, studying the board, studying the evidence. It was near 11:00pm, so it was a reasonable thing to think that he had left for the day.

"Almost." Bobby replied, studying Alexandra Eames.

"You rearranged some things." Alex said, moving to stand closer. He watched her take in the images, the facts, the reports. "This is definitely your guy." She murmured, and he took note that she had changed her language. Before she had corrected him to point out that the unsub was their guy, as in the state of New York's. Bobby was about to say something, but Alex Eames interrupted by continuing her thought. "But if we catch him, we're prosecuting him." She remarked.

Bobby watched her with fascination. She was a cop through and through. He knew that she came from a family of cops, so she probably lived and breathed the life. She was muscular, shapely, intelligent, and assertive. He again realized he was drawn to her.

"Libraries." Eames commented, turning to look at Bobby. "Everything comes back to libraries. All of the victims, they had visited a library in the 24 hours leading up to their death. So, he sits in libraries?" She offered. She wasn't saying anything new to Bobby, but it had him thinking about the case again, instead of her. And, it had him thinking about his mother. He breathed in, looking for a deep steadying breath, not finding one.

"You grew up in New York?" She asked, surprising him somewhat.

"Do you know me?" He replied, realizing the thought came out a bit out of order. He had meant to ask – _do I know you_? He watched her looking at him for a long moment, as if she was considering his question.

"It's in your voice. You might sound the same as everyone else when you're down there in D.C., but when you step into New York, the sound of where you spent your life, the sound of the place you learned to talk, it slips back in." She stated it flat, like a fact, indisputable. He smiled, he liked her certainty, her insight.

"I should go." He stood, realizing how much taller he was than her. She was rather petite, but she had such presence that she seemed much bigger than her physical size.

"Yeah, you should." She said. "You have my number, right?" She said, and that remark took him aback. "If something jumps tonight, on the case, I should be the first number you dial." She again asserted her current command over the case. He nodded and as he watched her leave the conference room, he again found himself thinking of finding his hotel room and the mini bar and maybe a shower to wash away the day, but maybe not in that particular order.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks for reading. So, this one kind of twists back around on _Crash_ :) Please drop me a review if you would like more. 


	7. Crash Scene 3

(remember - three different stories)

* * *

**Crash, Scene 3**

Going by to see Alex did not turn out to be such a good idea. Joe Dutton apparently was no longer working nights, and was due home any moment. In fact, Bobby thought he saw Joe stepping onto an elevator in the building as he was stepping off into the lobby.

"You should let me in." Bobby remembered standing in her doorway - she looked fantastic, clad only in a dark dusty olive green negligee and robe, her hair was loosely pinned up, revealing the strong lines of her collar bone.

"You should go." She replied, looking down the hall. "Joe should be home any moment." She stated, again looking down the hall. And, even in Bobby's slightly drug addled brain, he could put together what was happening. Any normal person would not have opened the door, but Alex was no normal person. She had opened the door to let Bobby know what he was missing, she had opened the door to feel the rush of adrenaline associated with Joe possibly walking down the hall with Bobby standing there admiring her scantily clad body, she had opened the door to danger.

"I still have your number." He said, using the phrase they played with as an indicator that he should come by.

"Maybe call me next week." She smiled, slyly. She stepped slightly forward as if she expected him to kiss her, but he did not give her that small satisfaction.

"We'll see if my phone is working next week." He said, and turned to go down the hall. He could feel her watching him as he turned the corner for the elevator. He really was inexplicably drawn to Alex Eames, but he wasn't going to play games tonight, he had already split his head open and nearly broken his hand messing around with her. He would give himself a few days before he stepped back into that fire.

He found himself on the subway headed back across town. Strangely he found himself getting off at the stop closest to the hospital. He had no idea what he was doing, and why he was drawn back to this place, back to the ER doctor with the soft voice and darkly lashed hazel eyes. He stopped at a liquor store and bought a fifth of scotch, thinking that he should simply head home. But instead, he walked down the block toward the ER entrance. He took a long drink of the amber liquid, straight from the bottle. He looked at the lights of the hospital, at the people out front, at the ambulance pulling in without its sirens on.

He found himself strolling toward the parking garage. He had overheard Lucy Jones saying when her shift ended, and how she was looking forward to getting in her car and driving home for a good nights sleep in her own bed. He wondered for a moment what that meant – her own bed. Who else's bed was she sleeping in? And, more importantly, why did he care.

He sat in the stairwell for a while, on the floor of the parking garage where many of the ER staff parked. He had flashed his badge to hospital security, offering some lame explanation about waiting for someone. So, security left him alone. He drank the scotch straight, not really quite knowing what he was doing. He was only somewhat aware of the parking garage spinning, and he was not at all aware at how severely his life was spinning.

He thought about the other night when his brother had come to the ER, the disappointment in Frank's eyes when he realized that Bobby had been injured in a bar fight. They had lived in the same house, with the same mother, the same father. Frank had turned into this average guy, and Bobby was anything but average. Maybe because Frank was older, he had the benefit of a few more years than Bobby of some semblance of normalcy before their mother snapped and their father left. Maybe just those precious few more years gave Frank a bit more resiliency than Bobby. Bobby had never known normal. When he was little, his life was full of such extreme emotions that he created the same extremes in his life now.

Lucy Jones came up the stairwell onto the floor where her car was parked. She had one thing in mind, getting home to her bed, her blankets, her pillows. She had spent too many nights grabbing a few hours of sleep in the ER. As she was just about to clear the stairwell, something, well someone, caught her eye. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the tall figure of a man coming down and out of the stairwell. She recognized Detective Bobby Goren.

"Detective." She said, her voice soft, as he looked at her.

"Doctor Jones." His hair was disheveled, as were his clothes, his eyes were heavy. She looked at him, thinking it was more than the pain meds, he was drunk, and her stomach twisted up trying to figure out why he was in the stairwell at this time of night, drunk.

"Were you looking for me?" She asked, not beating around the bush.

"I'm not sure." He admitted, honestly. He scratched his fingers through his longish hair, and side stepped a bit. She watched him, she could feel her flesh break out in goosebumps. She had to suppress a shiver.

"Detective…" She said again, not sure what she was going to follow with, but he interrupted her.

"Bobby, my name – it's Bobby." He said, looking at her.

"Bobby." She said, and she watched him close his eyes, as if he needed her to say his name.

"My name is Bobby." He repeated, he again stumbled a bit sideways. She completely pushed her common sense aside and stepped forward to keep him from running into the doorjamb of the stairwell door.

"Bobby." She said his name again, and she realized they were standing very close. He had somehow managed to turn to face her. She had her back against the wall, and he was standing in front of her. He was tall, and thin, and lean, and strong. He had his left hand, palm flat, pressed against the wall over her shoulder, so she was a bit pinned. Lucy stood, very still, her breath coming rather shallowly.

"Lucy." He said her name, looking at her, standing so close to her that he could smell the minty antiseptic of the ER. He moved in, close, as if to kiss her, and she pressed her back even more firmly against the wall. She looked at him, and watched him blink, thinking she saw tears in his eyes, then he blinked again, and they were gone. He shook his head slightly as if to find some sense.

Lucy lifted up her hand and placed it lightly on his chest, over his heart. He looked at her fingers, reminded of the other night how it felt to have her hand on his heart. She closed her eyes, and stood very still, he was mesmerized for a moment, unsteady. He had no idea that she was counting his respirations per minute, the doctor in her concerned about the amount of alcohol he had ingested combined with the prescription pain meds. So, he watched her, the dark fringe of her lashes contrasting against the pale smooth skin of her cheeks.

"Bobby." She reached up placing her hand on his throat, now she was taking his pulse. Again, he watched her, thinking only about her touch, not knowing that she was examining him. She was wondering how he could possibly be standing, with his respirations so slow. She realized that he wasn't exactly standing, that he was leaning heavily against the wall. "Can you stand?" She asked, and he looked at her confused. He pushed back slightly from the wall, and over rotated backward toward the steps. "Oh my god." Lucy moved forward as he fell hard onto the floor, catching himself with his hands, including his damaged hand from earlier. He barely winced. She looked at him and realized that they were headed back into the ER for the third time this week.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hi, thanks for reading. Remember, I am addicted to the chatter of reviews :) Otherwise I have a tendency to keep things on my C: drive… 


	8. Academic Scene 3

(remember - three different stories)

* * *

**Academic, Scene 3**

It didn't take Bobby long to figure out that Justin Kemp was supposed to be working his shift at the main library that supported liberal arts studies at the University. Bobby was on his way down the hall when he found himself detouring to go by Lucy's office. He was surprised to find the light on and the door open. The police had it closed off earlier in the day, but they must have completed their search and opened it back up.

Bobby took a step in, without thinking. His eyes scanned the familiar surfaces. He breathed in, he could almost smell her scent in her office. He looked to the coat rack she kept in the corner, to the extra sweater that she kept in her office. He smiled, remembering that she was often cold. He walked over toward the sweater, his hand outstretched as if to touch the cottony softness, when a voice behind him stopped him short.

"Goren." Emil Skoda was standing in the doorway. Bobby turned, surprised to see Lucy's husband. He rarely came by the university; he rarely came by her office, so Bobby found it strange to see Skoda in this space now.

"I'm so sorry." Bobby said, his voice broke as he said the words, his emotions still out of check. Skoda nodded and stepped into the office, looking around. Bobby irrationally thought that the surfaces probably felt unfamiliar to Skoda. Bobby thought that here was a man so busy with his own life, his own work, that he had lost familiarity with his wife.

"I still can't…" Skoda started to say, he reached forward and ran his fingers along the clean surface of her desk. "I just, um…" He started to say something again, but stopped. "Oh my god." Skoda reached up, placing his hand on his forehead.

"I'll just…" Bobby tried to leave the office, he felt miserable standing there, looking at Lucy's husband. Bobby knew Lucy very well, but he did not know Skoda. So he felt awkward standing there, seeing Skoda's grief. He preferred his own sorrow. He realized he felt a bit bitter that Skoda should miss her now, when he hadn't spent enough time with her when she was alive.

"Who would do this?" Skoda asked, and Bobby paused, turning. The question was meant as rhetorical, and Bobby found that he had almost answered. He really had a strong feeling about Justin Kemp.

"I'm sorry." Bobby mumbled and moved to shuffle out the door.

"You were um, you were a good friend to her." Skoda remarked, moving to stand near the sweater that Bobby had almost reached out to touch. "You were the last person…" Skoda continued, but broke off his thought. He did not need to finish it, Bobby knew that Skoda was going to say that Bobby was the last person to see her alive. Bobby stood in the door way, he blinked and he could feel the heat of tears in his eyes. He could only nod. "Anyway, she would say… Lucy said you were one of the smartest people she knew." Skoda looked at Bobby.

"I need to …" Bobby gestured down the hall. He needed to walk away, he needed to get away. He could feel a sudden, subtle shift of emotions within him. His grief was evolving into anger. Bobby realized that if he didn't leave he would end up yelling something at Skoda that he would regret. Bobby's thoughts were racing, he remembered that sometimes, especially lately, Lucy seemed so sad. Bobby knew that something was going on in her marriage, something that she did not want to talk about, something that made her dark hazel eyes fill with a distant sorrow. Bobby wanted to yell at Skoda, that it was easy to love her now, easy to miss her now, easy to grieve her loss. This made no sense to Bobby, because it was apparently not easy for Skoda to have appreciated her when she was alive. So, Bobby struck out down the hall and took the stairs. He couldn't make sense of this, he couldn't make sense of the loss he was feeling. He desperately missed her gentle smile.

Bobby, on the other hand, did not feel at all gentle, he felt very angry, and he was headed for the library. He needed to see Justin Kemp, he needed to ask Kemp the same questions the police had asked. Where was Kemp between 10:00pm and 1:00am last night? Was Kemp the last person to see Lucy alive?

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hi, thanks for reading. Remember, I am addicted to the chatter of reviews :) 


	9. Habit Scene 3

(remember, three different stories)

* * *

**Habit, Scene 3**

Bobby had found his way to his hotel room and now he was thinking mini bar or shower, shower or mini bar. It was late, so he was thinking maybe he should simply go to bed. He closed his eyes, and tried for that deep steadying breath he had been trying for all day. He thought of Lieutenant Alex Eames, there was something about her, something he couldn't place, something that had penetrated his brain. He was still trying for that breath when there was a knock at his door.

He looked through the peephole and was a bit surprised to see Lucy Jones on the other side. He threw the lock and let her in.

"Did you see it?" She asked. "I don't know why I couldn't see it before." She offered, pacing across his hotel room without even looking at him. "All of the photographs, side by side, how could I not see it?" She stopped, but instead of looking at him like he expected her to, she was looking at her reflection in a mirror. "They look like me." She said. "I look like them." This time she turned to look at Bobby. "He has a type, I am his type."

Bobby studied Lucy. He actually had seen it. When Lucy had laid out all of the pictures in order, he could see that the unsub had evolved into a type. Not all of the victims were deep brunettes with hazel green eyes. In fact, it was the hazel eyes that came first. All of the victims had similarly colored eyes, but the first few were blondes. Then came the hair, darker blonde, then deeper brunette. And, their skin types came as well, the last two were both fair skinned. Lucy had seen it today for the first time, when the most recent victim's photograph joined the others. All of the victims were 5'4 to 5'6, hazel eyes. The more recent victims were deep brunettes, with a kind of curvy classic hourglass build. All of the victims, blonde or brunette had long straight hair.

"Almost." Bobby looked at Lucy, looked at her spiral curls. He watched her take her fingers, pulling some of her hair straight.

"You saw it." She turned to face him, her eyes full of accusation. "You saw it." She repeated, looking back at her reflection.

"What're going to do, hang out in every library in Manhattan and hope that he is still in the city?" Bobby asked, watching her still pulling some of her curls straight. He realized that he liked to do that as well. He loved the cottony feel of her spirally curly hair. He loved to run his fingers down the fat glossy curls and watch them pop back into shape.

"Not every library." She replied, and he realized that she had something new. Her brain had made a new connection, a distinction about the libraries. "The New York Public Library at Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street in Manhattan."

Bobby looked at her for a long moment. "The architecture, the year it was constructed." Bobby commented, able to immediately visualize the historical façade of that particular library in New York, it was a landmark. He closed his eyes and thought about the connection across the victims. It strained his brain for a moment to think about the building evolving like the victims had, the libraries, they evolved into a type as well. Lucy had seen the pattern in both the victims and the connection between the victims.

"If he is still in New York, he is at that library." She offered, her tone of voice positive. That was a habit he had broken. His habit was one victim, then move on. But they had established there had been two victims in New York. He was escalating.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hi, I think people are reading, but I need some motivation to wrap these together. I love to write (no matter what), it is the interaction of the board that brings me to fanfiction land. 


	10. Crash Scene 4

(remember - three different stories :)

* * *

**Crash, Scene 4**

"God help me." Bobby groaned as he rolled over on a small bed curtained off in the corner of the ER. His head was splitting, his hand was pounding, his mouth was dry, and his eyes felt like fractured glass.

"I'm not sure that it is God that you need help from." Bobby sat up slightly to find Dr. Lucy Jones looking at him. He realized sitting up was a mistake, for he also felt on the verge of puking.

"Did I spend the night here?" He asked, looking at her, watching her hand him a small cup of water. When he moved his arm, he noticed he was also receiving some kind of fluids through an IV.

"The question is – did _I_ spend the night here." Lucy replied, not moving to stand any closer. Bobby looked at her, a bit blankly, not exactly having the cognitive function to process the distinction she was making with her statement. "I was supposed to go home last night and sleep in my own bed. But I was here, with you." She looked at him. She watched him slowly try to sit up. "Wait, I can probably remove that." She referred to his IV, which she deftly removed before he could say anything.

"So I spent the night here." He moved his legs over the edge of the bed, the room violently spinning, his head almost blinding him with pain. He closed his eyes against the light, and rubbed the heel of his left hand on his forehead.

"Let me check your right hand." Lucy stepped forward and took his bandaged hand gently in hers. His right palm was face down across her left palm, and he watched as she unwrapped the bandage with her right hand. His knuckles were a deep purplish, some were split, the bruise changed colors as it went up the back of his hand. She watched him wiggle his fingers very slowly, and watched the rest of the color drain from his face. She pulled a fresh bandage of a drawer, and rebandaged the hand. "So you can feel that? You can feel that hurt." Lucy observed.

"Yeah." He replied, she was still very close, and since he was sitting, they were almost at eye level. Again, he was taken with the deep hazel of her eyes, the soft pink of her lips, the angle of her cheeks, the soft sound of her voice.

"You weren't feeling pain last night." She observed, and he realized that he could see her smile in her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah I was." He said, and he could tell his reply surprised her a bit. He watched her expression change, as she realized he was not talking about the physical pain of his injuries.

"I didn't admit you. I kind of put you back here to let you sleep it off and monitor you." She said and she moved to step away. "So you're free to go Detective."

"Bobby." He replied, standing up off the ER bed, now even closer to her in such small quarters. "My name - its Bobby." He purposefully held his stance inside of her personal space, forcing her to look up at him.

"Bobby, you're free to go." She said, her eyes not wavering from his. He found himself stepping away first, grabbing his jacket with his uninjured left hand.

"Lucy," He found that he liked saying her name. "If I need you, can I call you?" He asked, and she looked at him for a long moment. He studied her, the way she tucked her hair behind her left ear, the way she kind of tugged at her dark blue scrubs. He was especially distracted by the way she quickly licked her lips, and he thought about what it would feel like to kiss those lips.

"If you need me?" She repeated, as if she didn't understand his question.

"You stitched up my head, you just bandaged my hand." He replied, making it seem as if his question was simply about needing her for advice or help with his injuries, when in fact he had meant it to be much deeper.

"Yes, you can reach me here in the ER." She allowed, and she watched him go. As he walked from the curtained area, she found herself reaching out and touching the table for balance, and taking the first deep breath she had managed since he had opened his eyes and looked at her. He was a magnetic wreck, and she found she couldn't get her mind off the image of him.

* * *

A few hours and a shower later, Bobby found himself on the steps of New York Public Library, 5th Avenue branch. Ever since he was a kid, he had loved the building. His mother had been a librarian, and even through the horror that was his childhood, she had managed to instill a love of books in both of her sons. Hence, Frank was a history buff and a history teacher, and Bobby, well Bobby simply read practically every he could get his hands on. 

He had swallowed a couple of the prescription pills on his way over on the subway. He had taken them dry, like aspirin. So, he was back to not feeling much physical pain. He sat down on the steps near one of the gigantic lion statues and watched people go by. He looked up at the sky, feeling the clouds spinning as they danced across his view. He closed his eyes and almost fell over backward as he was flooded with images from his life; his mother, he remembered that she had once had a sweet smile and a soft touch; his brother, the disappointment and frustration in his eyes from the other night; Alex Eames, the fire in her amber eyes that reminded him of his favorite scotch; and Lucy Jones, there was something earthy about her, the deep mahogany of her glossy curls, the lichen green of her hazel eyes, the ivory smoothness of her skin, the softness of her voice.

He breathed in deeply, slowly, letting the oxygen swamp his brain, clear his thoughts. He had called into work. His hand was a great excuse to not go in. However the truth of the matter was that he did not want to go in, he was not engaged today, he realized he would be a liability. He leaned back on the steps against his elbows and opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight.

No one even looked in his direction. He felt invisible, and on the meds he felt a bit invincible. He liked that feeling, it beat the hell out of feeling vulnerable. He was content to sit a while and let the day pass him by. But he realized that his detective's senses were doing their mighty best to penetrate his brain and send out some alarm bells. He turned, someone in particular catching his eye, the guy was medium build, maybe 5'10", brown hair, White. Bobby studied him for a moment, the way the guy stood on the steps in front of the library, looking up at the structure. Bobby could not help but notice that the guy was standing exactly in the middle. The guy hadn't simply stopped on his way up the steps to admire the building. If Bobby had a measuring tape, he felt pretty certain he would find that the guy was exactly in the middle of the step on which he was standing, exactly half way up the flight of steps. Who could do that? Not many normal people would do that.

So, Bobby continued to watch him, and the guy was watching other people. Bobby would follow the guy's line of vision, the guy didn't watch just anyone, or even the rather interesting ones, the guy's eyes seemed to follow a certain type of someone – women, 5'4 to 5'6, hazel eyes, long, straight brunette hair, a curvy classic hourglass build. Maybe he was looking for someone, maybe he had a type that he was attracted to, but since there was something not normal feeling about this particular guy, Bobby instinctually knew there was something not normal about the way the guy was visually seeking out these particular women.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the support and talking to me with your reviews! To be continued... 


	11. Academic Scene 4

(remember - three different stories :)

* * *

**Academic, Scene 4**

When Bobby walked out of the building, without thinking he took the door he always took and found himself facing the direction of the parking area. If he had been thinking, he would've taken a different exit, the one facing the direction of the library. Instead of looping immediately around the building he found himself walking toward the area where he had been parked the other night, nearby Lucy. When tenured faculty taught a night course, they received a special parking permit for the semester so they could park closer to where they were teaching. The special permit also served as kind of a perk for actually teaching a course at night. So, the particular parking lot turned over in terms of who parked there pretty much each semester. This semester, he and Lucy had agreed to teach a night class on the same evening on purpose. Even though they were in different departments, their offices were on the same floor, opposite sides of the same building.

They had never been anything more than friends. Though, Bobby sometimes wondered in a different life, if she were not married, that maybe they would have been. They had an instant chemistry, a way of communicating where they didn't actually have to put a lot of effort into talking. It was as if they were two halves of the same soul. So he found himself standing where their cars had been, near where his car was now, thinking about the last time he saw her.

They had been debating the merits of an associate professor coming up for tenure in Bobby's department. Bobby was kind of becoming a known hard-ass in terms of serving on tenure committees. With the grant money he brought in and his publications he had made tenure relatively quickly. So, Lucy was chiding him about making it so difficult on his colleagues. He remembered clearly the sound of her laugh as she unlocked her car door with her car key. He could hear the electronic _boop boop_ of the key fob echoing in his brain cells as he stood there looking at the exact place where her car had been.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her standing there smiling up at him. She had said his name, and told him not to be so difficult, that he needed to lighten up and smile more often. It struck him with great force that he would desperately miss just the sound of her voice saying his name. He loved the way she said his name. He took in a jagged breath and ran his fingers through his hair as he opened his eyes. Then, without thinking about anything further, he turned and headed toward the library.

Kemp would be easy enough to spot, Bobby had seen him many times before. He was average enough to simply describe - medium build, maybe 5'10", brown hair, White. But there was something about him, something about the way he walked, the way he talked, that put most people around him off. But Lucy, she had been more tolerant than most people. She tried to look past what she referred to as his quirkiness. In truth, Kemp really was quite intelligent. So, Lucy often hoped that Kemp would fine a way to harness his intelligence and fit a bit more closely into the mainstream.

Bobby took the stairs in front of the library two at a time. He pushed through the doors and ran his badge through security, gaining admission. He remembered that Kemp was supposed to be working the 9th floor stacks, so Bobby headed for the elevators. He stood waiting, trying to remember the last time he had been in the library. He did all of his computer searches from his office, many articles were now available full text on line, and if they weren't he usually had one of his graduate assistants pull what he needed from the library. He wondered if he had physically set foot in the library at all this semester.

He couldn't help but think how much things had changed from when he was a kid. His mother was a librarian, so he grew up with a deep respect for books. They were his escape from what an outsider would kindly term _an uneven childhood_. He shook that off, he had long since made peace with his mother's illness. His brother Frank had never been able to let it ago, and it had destroyed him. When Bobby started his undergrad studies, his older brother was already strung out on whatever he could get a hold of on the street, and by the time Bobby entered graduate school Frank had over dosed. His mother who had been mentally ill for as long as Bobby could remember had committed suicide also by overdose, but her drug of choice was sleeping pills. She had taken her life the weekend after Bobby had received his Ph.D., though part of Bobby realized that he had lost his mother to her illness long before that weekend.

In some respects all of that seemed like forever ago, and it was well over a decade, but standing there thinking about it, made it feel kind of like yesterday. Maybe it was the loss of Lucy that had him thinking about the loss of his brother, his mother. When the elevator doors opened, Bobby actually jumped a bit, realizing that he really had been lost in feeling things he wished he didn't have to feel.

As Bobby walked through the 9th floor, he spotted Kemp leaning in one of the many aisles reading a book. Kemp didn't look like he was shelving material; he looked like he was idly lounging. That made Bobby even angrier.

"Kemp." Bobby bit out his name in such a way as Kemp actually jumped.

"Dr. Goren." Kemp turned, his eyes widened for a moment in a bit of surprise. Bobby watched Kemp place the book on the shelf. "Can I help you with something?" Kemp asked, looking a little peeved that a full professor should be standing in the library possibly wanting him to do something. Kemp couldn't find any one who would take him on as either a teaching assistant or a graduate assistant. Kemp thought much of the work associated with assistantships were beneath him. He didn't like following another person's agenda. So, Kemp took a job with the university to help him pay his way through graduate school. "That's terrible about Lucy." Kemp offered, and Bobby took offense by Kemp's use of her first name.

"Dr Jones." Bobby said, looking at Kemp.

"What?" Kemp asked, as if he didn't follow.

"I believe you called her Dr. Jones." Bobby supplied, studying Kemp, his movements, his expressions.

"Fine." Kemp tried to brush it off, but Bobby could tell that Kemp was less than happy with the direction of the conversation.

"Not really, it's not fine." Bobby replied, looking beyond Kemp, realizing that there was no exit to the aisle. The shelves were up against a wall, so the only way out of the aisle of books was to come past Bobby, and Bobby realized that Kemp appreciated that as well.

"Why would you call her that, Lucy – like you were on a first name basis?" Bobby asked, leaning his large frame against the shelf, now completely blocking any exit or entrance from the aisle of books.

"Why do you care?" Kemp bit back, his expression nasty, he was clearly losing patience, feeling a bit trapped.

"First names with a professor, that's kind of intimate." Bobby remarked. "Dr. Jones, she wasn't really on a first name basis with any of her students. Well, maybe a few of her favorite Ph.D. students, but not you." Bobby said, verbally poking at Kemp, pointing out that he was _not_ one of Lucy's favorite students, she had not even taken him on as a Ph.D. student.

"What do you know of what was between Lucy and I." Kemp said, using her first name again, causing Bobby's guts to knot.

"I thought I saw you last night, as Dr. Jones and I were walking out to our cars, I thought I saw you near the building." Bobby lied, just to see what Kemp would do.

"So." Kemp said, and Bobby's heart began racing when Kemp did not say he was elsewhere. Kemp seemed to practically admit he had been there. Bobby noticed Kemp placing something in his pocket. Bobby looked at Kemps hand, at the bookmark he had glimpsed in Kemps hand, and that was the breaking point. Bobby closed his eyes for a moment and remembered Lucy dropping her brief case onto the ground, he remembered her planner spilling out onto the parking lot, he remembered that book mark. How would Kemp come to have that book mark and why would he be trying to surreptitiously stuff it in his pocket.

Bobby opened his eyes, and realized that he no longer had any coherent or clear thought in his brain. His eyes were focused on the pocket that held the bookmark, Kemp's eyes were focused on Bobby. Kemp made a sudden move, as if to want to get away, but he had no where to go. Bobby, practically blinded by rage charged forward, and with his left hand around Kemp's throat, Bobby picked him up against the wall and started to cut off his air supply.

"What would I know about what was between you and Dr. Jones." Bobby ground out, letting Kemp breathe for a moment. Bobby was so much bigger than Kemp, he actually held Kemp up against the wall without Kemp's feet even really touching the floor. "_Nothing_ was between you and Dr. Jones."

"What ever keeps you sleeping at night." Kemp croaked. "We had something." Kemp said looking at Bobby, looking him straight in the eye, "I had something with her that you never had with her." Kemp said, and Bobby understood with lightning speed exactly what Kemp meant. Bobby and Lucy had been friends, they had never been intimate, and to Bobby, Kemp had just admitted to raping Lucy in the parking lot last night, and that was the something that Kemp felt he had with her that he felt Bobby didn't have. And that was it, Bobby closed his eyes, and closed his hand around Kemp's throat, and started to strangle Justin Kemp right there in the secluded stacks of the 9th floor of the social science library.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! To be continued, soon... 


	12. Habit Scene 4

(remember - three different stories :)

* * *

**Habit, Scene 4**

"Holy shit, I barely recognized you." Bobby could hear Detective Logan's voice from the conference room where they had laid out the case. Bobby knew that Lucy must have arrived.

"I think your girl is here." Lieutenant Eames looked at Bobby, referring to Lucy. Eames was extremely perceptive, and though she guessed no one else necessarily picked up on it, she could tell by the way Agent Goren looked at Agent Jones that their relationship was a bit more complex than the professional one they presented to the world. Bobby looked at the Lieutenant for a long moment. He appreciated Alex Eames never said something casually, and that she had purposefully selected that specific turn of phrase. Bobby took note of the double meaning, the use of the word _your_, the use of the word _girl_. Lucy was just under a decade younger.

"I think your boy just noticed that." Bobby replied. Though Bobby wasn't conveying that Logan was by any means involved with the Lieutenant, and Logan was anything but a boy. Bobby used the exact turn of phrase to let the Lieutenant know he had understood her meaning.

"Right. Then we understand each other." Eames stood, looking at Bobby. He stood as well. Prior to Lucy walking in, Lieutenant Eames was expressing concern over one of the FBI team going undercover to be used as possible bait. Eames was trying to make absolutely certain that Agent Jones was up for the task, and that no personal involvement among the team would compromise the operation. Bobby had unequivocally stated that Lucy was up for the task, but he had not explicitly addressed the personal involvement aspect. Eames last statement, about understanding each other, was directed at that aspect.

"Yes." Bobby nodded, conveying that he would never let anything compromise his effectiveness at doing his job. As Bobby left the office, he was again impressed with the woman that was Lieutenant Alex Eames.

As he approached the windowed conference room, he found himself agreeing with Detective Logan. Lucy had successfully altered her appearance to be even more akin to the victims. She had somehow managed to straighten her wild curls into a smooth thick cascade of dark brunette hair. When the curls were pulled straight, her hair reached down to the middle of her back. She had even parted it on the right side and clipped some hair back away from her face similar to two of the more recent victims. She was wearing plain black track pants, worn sneakers and a pale pink t-shirt. Her make-up was minimal. She looked like she could easily be in her 20s, which was the age of all of the victims.

"Agent Goren." Detective Olivia Benson walked up beside him, wondering why he was standing outside the conference room without going in.

"Detective Benson." Bobby turned to look at the tall short-haired brunette. She was studying him with her soft brown eyes.

"Do you have a concern about this?" She asked, taking him off guard. He was feeling kind of like an open book around all of these astute women. He was starting to think he much preferred the cluelessness of men.

"No, no concerns." He said, and he reached forward to open the door for Benson. She preceded him into the conference room and they were shortly joined by Lieutenant Eames.

"Ok, so here is how this is going to work…" Eames was already talking and efficiently taking charge as she walked through the door. Bobby sat down, studying the people in the room, listening to Eames go over the game plan, thinking through all of the ways this could go wrong, trying to put a plan in place for each of those ways.

* * *

"Shhh, shhh, shhh." Mike Logan could hear Lucy over the wire they had on her. 

"What is she saying?" Logan turned to Bobby, who was smiling.

"Fish, fish, fish." Bobby replied, still smiling.

"Fish, fish, fish." Lucy said again, her voice barely audible.

"We can hear you Lucy." Bobby said, and Lucy's specially rigged I-pod looking device broadcasted Bobby's voice into her ears. And, the _fish_, _fish_, _fish_ stopped. "I'm going to come in and walk through." Bobby said to Lucy and Detective Logan and to who ever else was listening. It was day 2 of Lucy in the library, and he had been sitting on the sidelines for the past 3 hours. He found he needed to walk through, people watch a bit first hand in the library.

"Is that a good idea?" Eames voice came over the radio.

"Yes, it's a good idea." It was Lucy's barely audible whisper that responded. She was getting restless, and it would be nice to know that Bobby was walking around. She relied on him, and she knew that Bobby would be able to pick this guy out of a crowd, and he didn't need a physical description to do it. Bobby had an amazing sense of people, and this kind of guy would send off all kinds of alarm bells in Bobby's brain.

Bobby walked through the library, his leather portfolio in hand. He had it open, leafing through papers, as if he was looking for something, kind of veiling the fact that he was actually looking around. He came to the room where Lucy was sitting. She had things spread out across a table as if she was studying something. He sat at a reading table across the room, and laid his binder out in front of him, spreading papers across his view.

"You have someone interested in you." Bobby said, "Not our someone." Bobby supplied looking at the young blonde guy who was scoping out Lucy. He did not fit the profile, he was clearly sizing up Lucy for a different reason, probably trying to determine if he should hit on her or not.

"Yeah." Lucy replied, under her breath, acknowledging that she was also aware of the blonde guy. Bobby watched Lucy start to pack up her things. She had been sitting in the same spot for almost two hours. She was going to take a break, get something to drink, and then maybe change location. This movement would also curtail the blonde guy, who seemed to be on the verge of propositioning her. Bobby watched Lucy walk by, waiting a few minutes and followed. He watched her enter the stairwell, and all of his senses heightened when he watched someone enter the stairwell behind her – a male, 5'10", medium build, brown hair, White. This guy was a strong possibility.

"We've got someone." Bobby said, to the team as well as Lucy. "Male, 5'10", medium build, brown hair, White, dark blue shirt, jeans, black shoes, he's not carrying any kind of bag." Bobby looked at the stairwell door and gave Lucy's location to the team. He wanted desperately to enter the stairwell, but he knew that wasn't the thing to do, so he was listening for the signal from Lucy, for anything from Lucy.

"She hasn't come out." It was Detective Benson, she had taken position at the exit to the stairwell, where Lucy should have been exiting any moment.

"What was that?" Logan asked, and everyone was silent, they could hear something from Lucy's line, it was not the signal, it was a coughing sound, choking.

"Get in." Bobby said, realizing that Lucy had not come out, and she had not given the signal because she could not. Bobby moved for the stairwell door to find it locked. "It's locked." Bobby called, and Benson called the same. It made no sense because Lucy had just entered.

"I'm going up a floor." Bobby called, running through the library for the other stairwell. He pounded up the stairs and back across the library floor to the stairwell door. He yanked the door open and pulled his weapon and started down the stairs. He passed the floor where the door was jammed, then slowed slightly, expecting to see her on the stairwell. Instead he saw blood on the cement wall where it looked like the unsub had bashed her head, and he saw her bag on the floor. He continued down the stairs, unjamming the next floor so Benson and Logan accessed the stairwell. The unsub had secured the floors forcing the only exit another floor or possibly two below, toward the basement, where there were less people. Bobby flashed back to thinking about all of the potential ways that this could go wrong…

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for talking to me in your reviews! To be continued... 


	13. Crash Scene 5

**Crash, Scene 5**

Bobby watched as the guy turned on the stairway. He didn't step and turn around, he kind of swiveled without even moving his feet. His eyes remained on a particular brunette who was descending the stairs headed for the street. The guy moved into step, a discrete distance behind her. So, Bobby stood, and moved into step a discrete distance behind the guy. Bobby had the presence of mind to text Lupo, which was excruciatingly difficult with one hand. Bobby provided location, direction, and noted the suspicious activity, and sent a request for discrete back-up. Within about 2 minutes he received a text back that Lupo was on his way. Bobby continued to follow the guy down the street, and the guy was still fixated on the brunette.

The brunette stopped and went into a coffee shop while the guy remained outside, browsing things at a nearby street stand, though mainly the guy was studying the brunette. Bobby felt a little frustrated over how clueless some people could be. The guy was very strange, and the fact that the brunette was completely unaware that she was being followed astounded Bobby. He was constantly amazed at how often people seemed to exist completely within their own world.

The brunette came out, tall coffee cup in hand and continued walking on the sidewalk. Bobby guessed she was headed for the subway. Bobby was beginning to wonder how long the guy would follow her, and he was beginning to question his judgment in contacting Lupo.

In fact, he was questioning his judgment in following along at all. Maybe he was a bit more impaired than he thought, maybe his paranoid feelings were his own and that this guy was just following a pretty girl. _Maybe if frogs had wings_, he thought and smiled to himself realizing that he still felt a little altered by the meds he had taken earlier.

He received a text that Lupo was about 5 minutes away, and Bobby texted back his current location. Bobby watched, disbelief crawling up his spine, as the guy grabbed the brunette in plain sight on a crowded street and hauled her into an alleyway without anyone blinking and eye. He pushed through the people and closed the distance coming into the alleyway as the guy threw the brunette up and backward against the wall of a building, her head cracking against the cement surface, knocking her clean unconscious.

"Freeze - police." Bobby drew his weapon with his left hand and identified himself. The guy had a gun drawn as well and it was now squarely aimed at Bobby. "Slow it down." Bobby said, looking at the guy.

"Why, is someone moving fast?" The guy asked, his eyes locked with Bobby's, unwavering.

"Drop your weapon. NYPD, drop your weapon." Bobby repeated, their eyes still locked. "You haven't done anything yet, just drop your weapon." Bobby said, referring to the brunette on the ground. Right now, everything was just "attempted", so maybe the guy would catch onto that.

"What do you know about what I've done?" The guy responded, his voice without affect, his eyes flat without expression.

"Drop your weapon." Bobby repeated, realizing that talking to this guy was going to get him no where.

"What do you know about me?" The guy said, looking at Bobby, and now Bobby was looking at the guy's hand, the tendons in the back of his hand were tensing on the trigger.

"Drop your weapon." Bobby said one last time before discharging his own, but it was too late, the guy had depressed his trigger as well. Bobby could see he hit the guy square in the chest, and the guy fell backward from the force of the bullet, blood coming up and drenching his shirt practically immediately.

"Officer down, officer down." Bobby was surprised to hear Lupo's voice, and was further surprised when he fell to the ground. He could see his own blood swelling in circles opening against his shirt. Lupo was calling his location, calling for an ambulance, multiple ambulances, multiple victims.

"Holy shit Goren, holy shit." Lupo was on Bobby, pressing against the wound in his shoulder, looking down the alleyway. Two uniformed officers ran by toward the man Bobby had just shot, one kicking the guy's weapon clear, the other checking the guy for a pulse. Then the one who had kicked the weapon checked on the brunette. "What the hell, what the hell just happened."

"Assault, attempted abduction." Bobby said, referring to the attack on the brunette. "And he shot me." Bobby said, wincing, feeling sick from the pain. Bobby could hear the ambulance sirens closing the distance. He was on his back on the sidewalk looking up at the sky.

* * *

"Damn it Bobby Goren, don't you dare…" Bobby could hear Lucy Jones. He hadn't been aware he had loss consciousness on the street, but the next thing he knew he was in the ER. He opened his eyes for a moment and could see her, she was leaning over him, covered in blood – his blood. She was working quickly trying to locate the bleeder in his shoulder. "Damn it Goren, don't you dare… …stay with me." She was saying, she was yelling at him, she sounded mad, as if she were commanding him to find the will to live.

* * *

"Surgery went well, repairing the damage from the bullet was not easy." Bobby opened his eyes slowly, Lucy Jones was holding his chart looking down at him. He looked around, he was no longer in the ER, he was in a room in the hospital. He didn't remember the surgery, he didn't remember the recovery room. He was warm, covered in blankets, his body felt fuzzy – anesthetized. He thought she looked tired. 

"The victim." He asked, and for a moment Lucy looked puzzled. "Get Lupo." Bobby said, thickly.

"The victim, she is fine. A mild concussion. She was lucky you were there." Lucy supplied, not moving to get Lupo. "The guy, Justin Kemp, he didn't make it." Lucy supplied. "Dead on scene."

"Dead on scene." Bobby repeated, having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"Your brother, he's here. He would like to come in." Lucy stated, Bobby was nodding that would be OK. "And it seems like most of the NYPD is out there." Bobby wondered _who_ in particular was included in that half. He moved slightly in the bed and winced. Now his head hurt, his hand hurt, and the pain in his shoulder felt like it was going to kill him. Lucy was scribbling something onto his chart.

"I wanted to give you this." She said, placing her card next to the phone.

"Your card." He mumbled, he was starting to completely come out of the anesthesia, and the full enormity of the pain in his body was making it hard to focus.

"If you need me, you can reach me." She flipped the card over to reveal that she had also provided her personal phone number, and Bobby caught onto a bit of her meaning. "I made the same notation on your chart. The nurse will know how to reach me."

"Third time is a charm." He murmured, referring to the fact that he had been in the ER three times in about the last three days. He watched her smile, and he realized he was becoming addicted to her smile.

"Third time is a charm." She repeated his words and made an adjustment to his IV line. He could feel the familiar fuzzy feeling of wonderful pain meds spread like cotton across his brain. "Get some rest detective." She said.

"Bobby, my name its…" He started to say.

"I know, your name is Bobby. Get some rest Bobby." He could even hear her smile in her voice. From the oh so lovely rush of pain meds, he was somewhat aware that the world was spinning. And instead of fighting the feeling, he simply closed his eyes and let it spin.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and talking to me through your reviews... 


	14. Academic Scene 5

**Academic, Scene 5**

"Professor Goren." It was the cool voice of Detective Alex Eames that penetrated Bobby's brain. "Professor Goren." She said his name again, "Let him go." She commanded, referring to the strangulation hold Bobby had on Justin Kemp. "Let him go." She repeated, watching Bobby do as she asked, and Kemp kind of fell to the floor in a heap, sputtering and coughing.

"He killed her, he raped her…" Bobby croaked, his voice hoarse with grief, with anger, with raw and roiling emotion. Bobby was somewhat aware that Eames was calling for back-up and an ambulance.

"I assume your assault on Mr. Kemp was in self defense." She said, not moving to assist Kemp, standing at the end of the library aisle, looking at Bobby. At first Bobby didn't understand her. "Self-defense." She repeated the words, looking for her words to register in Bobby's mind. She watched him shake his head as if to activate coherent thought.

"Self-defense." He repeated, conveying the he understood that otherwise, when back-up arrived, he would be arrested for attacking Kemp.

"Good. If you could just step away." She said, and Bobby did as she asked and watched her walk toward Kemp, again she seemed in no particular hurry to help the coughing, barely breathing man on the floor.

"He raped her…" Bobby repeated, feeling his adrenaline abate a bit, feeling like he might throw up.

"Get up." Eames kind of kicked at Kemp with her foot. "Get up." She repeated, her weapon drawn, aimed at Kemp. Stabler and two uniformed officers arrived on scene. Bobby stepped further to the side, as Stabler squeezed down the narrow aisle of books and yanked Kemp to his feet.

"Apparently there was an altercation between Professor Goren and Mr. Kemp. Goren acted in self-defense, Kemp's apparent injuries are a result of Goren acting in self-defense." Eames smoothly supplied. "Read Kemp his rights and bring him in for the murder and rape of Lucy Jones." Eames stated to the uniforms. Bobby watched as they cuffed Kemp and started informing him of his rights.

"You know he did it..." Bobby was confused, how could the police possibly know he did it. They had only received his name just under an hour ago.

"The MEs reports are coming in. As are CSU. We will be able to lock this down in the next few hours." Eames supplied, and Stabler kind of glared at her, as if she was speaking prematurely, or out of turn.

"Eames." Stabler said, in a manner of warning.

"I'll be right there." Alex looked at her partner and reached into her pocket for her card and wrote something on the back of it as Stabler walked toward the elevator, out of hearing distance. "I wanted to give you this." She said, handing Bobby her card.

"I um, I have your card." He said, still feeling pale, feeling sick.

"Take this. I will need to be in contact with you about the altercation." She provided, and placed the card in his hand. "But, if you need me, you can reach me." She flipped the card over to reveal that she had also provided her personal phone number, and Bobby caught onto a bit of her meaning.

"Thank you." Bobby said, and remained standing in the library for a few moments while Eames went with Stabler to close the case on Kemp.

That night Bobby found himself sitting alone in his apartment. He had some papers spread out on his kitchen table, pretending like he might have the mental capacity to actually get something done. But, he was just kind of sitting there, not able to process much thought. So, he stood and went to his freezer and retrieved a bottle of very nice vodka. He was not one to ever really drink more than a beer or maybe two, but occasionally he liked the icy coldness of a nice vodka, but he rarely drank to excess. He poured a generous amount into a high ball glass and walked through his apartment.

He found himself standing in front of his bookshelves, looking at a photograph of himself with Lucy. It was a black and white taken last year. She had given it to him as a thank you for being a guest lecturer in a few of her classes when she was sick with the flu for a week. He was sitting at his desk at the university, papers piled everywhere, and she was standing behind him, her arm loosely around his shoulders, with the other arm she was making bunny ears with two fingers behind his head, smiling at the camera. She looked happy, and funny, and beautiful. He ran his thumb across the image and downed the vodka in a single smooth swallow. He kept her photograph in his hand and his glass in the other as he returned to the kitchen. He placed the framed photo on the counter and poured another generous drink.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and retrieving the business card that Alex Eames had passed him with her personal phone number. He laid that on the table among his papers. He thought about the phone number, about Alex Eames. He thought about what it would be like to dial the number, to hear her voice. He wondered if she was funny. He drank the vodka from the glass and this time he grabbed the bottle. He walked back through his apartment to look out the window at the night sky. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, drinking, thinking, and then trying not to think.

He was somewhat aware that the world was spinning. And instead of fighting the feeling, he simply closed his eyes and let it spin.

* * *

**A/N:** I think a more shippy creative mind could do something with the possibility of the phone number :) 


	15. Habit Scene 5

**Habit, Scene 5**

Bobby could hear the stairwell door open and close just ahead. So he knew that they were close, they hadn't fallen too far behind with the jammed stairwell doors. He pushed through the door into a basement corridor with Logan and Benson close behind. He could hear Benson on the radio calling their location.

"Face first, on the ground, now!" When he heard the sound of Lucy's voice, Bobby stopped short, Logan and Benson almost crashing into him. Bobby was standing about 25 feet away, Lucy had her weapon drawn and was ordering the guy onto the floor. "Hands behind your head." Lucy commanded, and Bobby watched the guy drop to the floor, face first, and interlock his hands behind his head.

"Holy shit." Logan said under his breath, which was exactly what Bobby was thinking. When Lucy lost contact, everyone feared the worst. They assumed that the guy had gotten the jump on Lucy. Bobby realized that the guy had probably received more than he had bargained for.

Logan and Benson came around to assist Lucy by searching and cuffing the guy. Bobby ran down the details of the past minutes in his mind. Lucy appeared to be uninjured, but he could see blood on the guy's shirt. So, the blood on the wall, it was not Lucy's.

"When he came up behind me on the stairs, I think I lost communication with you." Lucy was slightly out of breath. "He grabbed me from behind, he made contact with my throat, as if to cut off my air supply, but I could feel him in motion, so as he grabbed me, I slammed backward toward the stairwell wall, and his head made contact with the wall. He was slightly disoriented and when he came forward, I lost my balance for a moment. He took off running down the stairs, so I pursued. I was calling my location the whole time, but I wasn't hearing a response so then I knew I was temporarily out of communication."

Logan was cuffing the guy, reading him his rights, for now charging him with the attempted assault on Lucy. Bobby watched Logan haul the guy to his feet by his cuffs. The guy winced, and there was blood on his head and on his nose.

"I must've hit him with my head on his nose when I slammed him backward toward the wall." Lucy remarked, placing her hand on her hair, somewhat relieved not to find any blood. Bobby watched several NYPD uniforms flood into the area. Logan and Benson were hauling the guy away, back to the 2-7 for questioning.

"Are you OK?" Bobby asked. Even though he was standing a few feet away from her, he could practically feel Lucy's heart pounding in her chest.

"Yeah. Great. I'm great." She replied, and he could hear the adrenaline in her voice. Bobby stood still on purpose. He didn't allow himself to get caught up in the action of the arrest. He stood still to give a calming presence to Lucy. It was working, Lucy was not swept up in the arrest, she automatically came to stand beside Bobby.

"That's him. That's our guy." Lucy said, taking a deep breath, feeling her heart slow a bit.

"I think so." Bobby allowed.

"I know so." Lucy said, her voice softening, she was catching her breath. Bobby studied her. He watched her watching NYPD escort the guy back onto the stairwell and get him out of a back entrance of the library.

"Are you OK?" Bobby asked again, this time they were alone in the corridor.

"Yeah." Lucy said, her voice back to its usual soft, even tone. "I'm OK." She looked Bobby in the eyes. "See?" She smiled, kind of holding her arms out for him to study her a bit closer. "Are you OK?" She asked him, kind of tilting her head to the left a bit.

"Yeah." He said. He watched her narrow her eyes slightly at him.

"You thought that blood was mine, I was out of contact, you thought he had me." She said, reading Bobby.

"Perhaps." He allowed.

"He didn't." Lucy replied. "_He never had me_." She said, emphatically. Bobby watched her turn and stride up the stairs. He stood for a few moments completely alone in the corridor, just breathing. His mind had felt like it was going to explode over the possibility that a member of his team had been abducted, that Lucy had been abducted. He stood letting the adrenaline abate in his own body. After a few long moments, he left the corridor, headed toward the 2-7. He wanted to observe the questioning.

That night, when Bobby was packing up his things to leave the 2-7, Alex Eames stopped him in the hall. He figured they would be headed back to D.C. in the morning. NYPD adeptly linked the guy who assaulted Lucy in the library, Justin Kemp, to the two other homicides. So, NYPD already had a solid case against Kemp. Bobby was certain this was the guy they had been tracking across states for the past few months, all of the FBI and state level evidence was lining up to support that . So New York and the other states involved would need to duke it out as to who was in the best position to prosecute.

"I wanted to give you this." Alex said, handing Bobby her card.

"I um, I have your card." He said, thinking about how she had done the same thing the other night.

"Just take this." She placed the card in his hand. "If you need me, for anything, you can reach me." She flipped the card over to reveal that she had also provided her personal phone number, and Bobby caught onto a bit of her meaning.

"Thanks." Bobby said, and placed the card in his pocket. He thought, in a different life perhaps he would use that phone number. But, as it was, he had no plans to stay in New York, and his life was in D.C. So, he headed back to his hotel room.

He had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock at his door. He moved to answer and found a slightly inebriated Lucy on the other side. She had gone out for drinks with Logan and some of the other NYPD people who had helped with the case.

"Can I come in?" She asked, looking at Bobby's damp hair, the way his dark gym pants were slung low on his hips, the way his heather grey t-shirt clung to his chest. He stepped aside and let her in. He noticed that she had changed clothes into jeans and a black sweater, but she had not showered, her hair was still straight, her make up still basically the same. She seductively spread her palms open against his chest and looked up at him. "Are you OK?" She asked the same question she had asked of him earlier that day.

"Better." He said, smiling, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close, breathing in the minty scent of her. "But we have to do something about this." He ran his hands across her impossibly straight hair. He was kissing her as he walked her backward toward the shower. He turned back on the hot water and pulled her sweater off over her head, and pushed her jeans down from her hips. He undressed her completely, but he stayed in his t-shirt and pants as he joined her in the shower. He let the water run over her hair, running his fingers through the thick strands, feeling her curls bounce back into play. He loved the feel of her hair in his hands, of the way the curls sprang back into shape.

"We're going to have to do something about this." She smiled, referring to the fact that he was still dressed, and she pushed his soaking wet clothes of his body, and they stayed in the shower together for a very long time.

Later, as Lucy slept in the bed next to him, he thought of the past few days. He thought about how he did not like New York, but he was inexplicably drawn back to the city, time after time. He thought of how Alex Eames had passed him her personal phone number. He thought about how a different life might have brought different outcomes. He remembered he had come close to joining NYPD over the FBI. But, that was then. And for now he knew where his place was, it was with the BAU in Quantico, and he knew who he belonged with – Lucy, as long as she would have him.

So as he drifted off to sleep, he was somewhat aware that the world was spinning. And instead of fighting the feeling, he simply closed his eyes and let it spin.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm a bit of a fan of "Criminal Minds" as well... Let me know what you think. I need some inspiration. My life has been crazy this month- not bad, just crazy, so mild mental distractions are always welcome. 

...andfor those ofwho followed _Four Funerals and a Wedding_, a few more ways for the outcome of Justin Kemp.


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